The Incredible, Edible Egg

About six months ago, my mom and I had a conversation about moving parents into a nursing home.  (Don't ask why.  We just have odd, depressing conversations sometimes.)  She is adamant that her children will not be the ones taking care of her in her old age.  She wants us to put her in a home.

The conversation then went down the road of when someone should move into a nursing home.  We agreed that there has to be a right time.  If a child waits too long, her parent will put up a fight, unable to see that living on her own is just a bad idea.

I jokingly suggested that she and I will evaluate the situation every year on her birthday.  We can discuss if "this is the year!"  It has now become a huge joke.  She will call me and say, "We may need to move that talk up.  I finally found my glove I lost three days ago.  It was in the freezer."

It was all fun and games until these last two weeks.

I'm starting to wonder if we should have this conversation about me.

I have turned into Crazy Egg Lady.

We are getting between 15 and 19 eggs each and every day.  I'm thrilled to bits.  We love eggs.  Only problem is, we cannot eat 15 eggs each and every day.  

Why do we have so many, you ask?

Two reasons.  First, when you order chickens from the catalog, you have to order 25 in order for the chicks to stay warm enough during the shipping.  (Yes, day old chicks come in a box.  The post office will call us when they arrive.)

Secondly, we know that we won't have this many chickens for long.  I don't know if we've ever had a chicken last its full two years of prime laying.  The reasons for this are long and gruesome.  Another post, maybe.  Let's just say we have a dog that loves the taste of chicken and a plethora of wild animals that also find them delectable.  Plus, we are ridiculously bad farmers.

Why don't we sell them, you ask?

We do.  For the bargain basement price of $2/dozen.  I am often seen walking around the pick-up lot at school, toting a cooler full of eggs, trying to find the people who said they wanted some.

What's the problem then, you ask?

Two words.  Spring Break.

For a week before everyone leaves for vacation, trying to clean out their refrigerators, sales plummet.  The week all of Indianapolis heads out of town, the eggs multiply worse than a family of mice.  At one point, we had 18 dozen eggs in my fridge.  "Sorry kids, no milk for the cereal today.  There's no room to keep it in the fridge."

And I become the Crazy Egg Lady.

Making deviled eggs for every function we attend.  Insisting that I make the four dozen hard boilded eggs for the Seder Meal at school.  Forcing my children and husband to eat eggs for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks.

I didn't realize I had gone completely off my rocker until I was at the grocery store a couple of days ago.  We were in the dairy aisle when I ran into a fellow soccer mom.  Did I ask how she was?  No.  Did I ask how her son, who just broke his toe and is out of soccer for the next month, is?  Nope.  Did I even say hello?  Didn't even cross my mind.  I skipped every polite nicety.  My eyes went straight to her basket, where I saw that she was carrying nothing but two dozen eggs. 

I very forcefully screeched in her face, "Why are you buying eggs when I have a refrigerator full of them???"

Everyone in the aisle stopped.  Even my kids got quiet.  All eyes were on my soccer mom friend and me.

When she very quietly and calmly said, "Because we've never discussed the fact that you have extra eggs."

Oh.  Right you are.

I didn't stop there, though.  I totally made her put those eggs right back on the shelf.  Didn't tell her how much we charge.  Didn't ask her if she would like to try some free-range, oganic eggs. 

Just gave her the evil eye until those pale, caged-up chicken eggs were back in the grocery store cooler.  

Then I asked how her son was doing.  Like I had not just proved myself to be completely out of my mind.

Things are better now.  Between the two dozen for soccer mom, and the three I sold to the folks in the office at school, and the four dozen that went to school for the Seder Meal, and the three I'm selling to a friend today, we're down to eight dozen still in my fridge. 

Until 4:00.  When Phoenix collects eggs.

Then we'll be up to nine and a half.

Hope I don't run into my mom while I'm stalking people in the dairy aisle.